Rolling to the side, he stripped off her panties with one hand, determined to regain some semblance of control. Then he almost lost it again at the first glimpse of her pussy. A tidy patch of bronze curls topped her otherwise smooth flesh. Her legs were slightly parted, offering him a mouthwatering view of glistening pink folds and the plump bud of her clitoris begging to be stroked. It was all the invitation he needed.
Derek took her mouth as he slid his hand between her legs, pushing one finger up inside her. Liquid heat enveloped his finger, pulsing around him, drawing him deeper as she moaned and squirmed underneath him.
Fuck, she was tight. And wet, soaking his fingers with her silky, slippery juice.
But tight. So tight he knew he couldn’t take her hard and fast, not without hurting her. He pumped his thick finger inside her, flicked her clit with his thumb. Tiny muscles clenched around him, and another surge of moisture bathed his hand.
She arched under his touch, her legs shifting, teasing his cock with inadvertent brushes of her thigh. Derek knew he wouldn’t be able to make it much longer. He slid another finger up into her, stroking, stretching, softening her for the much thicker invasion of his cock.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “That feels…mmm…” She bucked up against his hand, fucking his fingers as his thumb circled her clit with firmer strokes. Suddenly she convulsed, her muscles tightening like a fist around his fingers, her eyes flying open as though startled at the strength and swiftness of her own orgasm.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. A vein pulsed in her neck, and Derek leaned down to suck the spot. A shiver coursed through her, and he could feel her clench around his finger, still buried deep inside her. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard.”
“Let’s see if you can do it with me inside you,” he said. It took an act of will, but he coaxed his fingers from the slick warmth of her body, rolled onto his back, and reached blindly for the drawer of his bedside table. He vaguely remembered throwing some condoms in there a while back. A few seconds of fumbling, and his fingers closed over the foil packet.
His hands shook as he unwrapped the packet, and he swore as he fumbled with the latex. Jesus Christ, he was so far gone he could barely get the condom on. His fingers felt like they’d tripled in thickness, big and clumsy and incapable of fitting the ring of latex around the engorged head of his cock.
“Let me,” Alyssa said, pushing him onto his back as she knelt beside him. He leaned forward and took a nipple in
his mouth, sucking and tonguing her. She took the condom from him and smoothed it down the length of his cock, her fingers burning him, making him arch and thrust against her touch. He pulled her down to him and settled her thighs on either side of his hips, realizing vaguely that he had less of a chance of hurting her if she was the one to control his penetration.
But she rolled off him, onto her back, pulling him down over her. “I want you on top,” she whispered.
“You’re small,” he protested. “I’m way too heavy—”
“I want to feel your weight over me,” she said, pulling his hips to hers as she bent her knees and parted her legs. Gripping his cock in one small hand, she guided him to her, slicking the plump head up and down, around her clit, drenching him with liquid fire.
“Put me in,” he demanded, needing to be inside her before he went off like a rocket.
Still holding him, she fit him against the entrance to her sex, taking a sharp inhale as he squeezed inside. “God, you’re big.”
“And you’re so fucking tight.” He drove slowly forward, sliding in another inch. Jesus, not even two inches in her, and his orgasm was already looming, tingling in his balls, urging him to drive home and pound away.
He paused, took several deep breaths, reaching for the ironclad control that had disappeared at the first touch from this confounding woman. He pushed forward, pausing again when he saw her lips tighten.
“I’m hurting you,” he panted.
She tossed her head against the pillow. “No. I mean, it’s okay. It’s just been a long time.”
“How long?” He panted out the question before he could stop himself. There was no reason he should care.
“A little over a year,” she said, lifting her hips, killing
him with shallow little thrusts as she struggled to accommodate him.
He froze, his sex-fuzzed brain chewing over that piece of intel. It had been nearly as long for himself, and they’d picked each other from the crowd to end a mutual dry spell.
It doesn’t mean anything.
But his whole body tensed, hesitating, afraid if he went any further it would mean a whole lot more than he’d ever bargained for.
She lifted her knees higher and ran her hands up and down his back. “I want you, want to feel you.” Her back arched, her pretty pink nipples pointing to the sky.
It was back again, the burst of something hot and fierce and scary in his chest. Derek shoved it aside and turned his focus wholly on Alyssa, on her pleasure. He rose up on his knees to give himself better access and slid his fingers between her lush pussy lips, stroking her clit as he thrust and withdrew, going a little deeper each time. His breath knotted in his chest as he fought his climax. The sight of his cock sinking inside her and pulling out, shiny wet with her juice, was almost enough to send him over the edge.
She arched against him and moaned, her body seeming to suck him deeper like a greedy mouth. “Deeper,” she murmured. “Please come all the way inside.”
Derek filled her with one long, thick thrust, squeezing his eyes shut as she took him all the way. He held himself there, circling against her as sweet, hot sounds bubbled between her lips. Every detail came into sharp focus. The molten grip of her body around him, the scent of her mingling with the scent of him. The wet, sucking sounds of sex as he sank into her, over and over.
God, she was so hot, so beautiful. Her skin was like cream and satin, and he wanted to wrap himself up in her. Her pussy was hotter, tighter, than anything he’d ever felt. She
made his cock so hard he was afraid when he came it was going to kill him.
“I’ll be surprised if either of us make it out alive,” she moaned.
Derek’s eyes flew open as he realized he’d said at least that last part out loud. He hooked Alyssa’s leg up over his hip and went as deep as he could go, pumping, circling, grinding as he covered her mouth with his. He wanted to taste every breath, every noise as he drove her over the edge.
He could feel her pleasure building with his, her pussy tightening around his cock as his balls drew in tight against his body. The muscles in his thighs bunched, every sinew tightening, readying for release.
Her moans rose in volume, a series of short, high, “ah’s” mingling with his deeper groans before she froze, convulsing against him with a force that shook the bed. His climax hit him with devastating force, ripping through him, making him shake and moan as his cock pulsed and jerked inside her.
Derek rolled off her hours or seconds later, feeling as drained as if he’d run a marathon. The last ripples of his orgasm sizzled through him like electric currents, aftershocks of physical devastation.
She curved against him, and he ran his hand up and down the delicate curve of her spine. His brain grappled for something to say. Something cool, casual, flattering without implying any promises. Something that would show her he brought women home with him all the time and this was no big deal.
“I need to take care of the condom.”
Real smooth.
Fuck it. The intrusion of reality in the form of birth control was a good thing, he thought as he pulled away, ignoring the chill that enveloped him as he pulled away from her warmth.
When he emerged a few minutes later she was waiting by
the door, her dress, purse, and panties clenched against her front like armor. “Do you mind if I freshen up?” she said and darted past him.
Derek pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of jeans and went out into the living room. He found his Scotch where he’d left it and tossed it back in one gulp. The smoky bite washed the taste of her from his mouth, as his brain started asking him all kinds of questions about what the fuck he thought he was doing.
“I called my driver to pick me up.”
Derek turned to face her. She stood just inside the living room, back in her red silk dress. With her shoes off, she was even shorter than he’d originally thought, topping out at about five foot two, five three, max. She’d washed her face and wiped away the heavy layers of mascara, powder, and lip gloss. Now he could see the freckles across her small nose, see that her thick, full lashes were the same golden brown as her hair.
With her small stature and delicate features, she could have passed for a teenager. Thank God she wasn’t.
Her lips curled in a knowing smile. “Don’t worry. I’m twenty-four. I’ll show you my driver’s license if you’re really worried.”
Twenty-four. Still too young for his own thirty-two. Not that it mattered, as this wasn’t going anywhere. Derek held up his hand. “I’m not.” She might look young, but she fucked with the confidence of a woman. His cock thickened behind his fly, more than ready to test that confidence again, but she was slipping on her shoes, ready to make her escape.
He bit back a wave of disappointment and fought the urge to talk her into round two. He should be grateful she was leaving on her own, as eager to get out of there as he was to have her gone. Okay, maybe he wasn’t as eager as he should be, tak
ing one last, regretful look at her slim, silky legs and heartbreaker face.
He had about a thousand different things he’d still like to do to her, he’d barely scratched the surface. But she was dangerous to him, to his peace of mind, to his carefully constructed detachment. Even a guy who didn’t spend too much time on self-reflection could see that.
Best to get her out of there, end this whole crazy night now.
“Do you mind giving me a ride to the Four Seasons? I asked my driver to pick me up there.”
His brow knit. “Why not just have him pick you up here? Or, better yet, I can give you a ride home.”
She shook her head and gave him a smile he couldn’t quite read. “I like to keep things mysterious. Let’s keep this our secret.”
He shrugged and grabbed his keys and wallet. It wasn’t his job to decipher the whims of a woman he barely knew.
Within ten minutes they were at the hotel.
“Pull into the parking lot and park over there,” she said, indicating a row of spaces a good fifty yards from the main entrance. He could see a town car idling in the circular driveway.
“So, should I call you or something?” He mentally punched himself as the question slid past his lips. He needed to let this go right here, right now. He had no intention of calling her and no business giving her the idea he meant to.
She turned to him, and in the darkness he could just make out her soft smile. “How about I look for you at the next charity auction, and we’ll leave it at that?”
A sharp stab hit him, something that felt way too close to regret for his comfort. “I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
She leaned over the gearshift and kissed him, sweet, soft, and hot, sliding her tongue in his mouth for a last, lingering
taste. “It was really nice meeting you, Derek. Thank you for a lovely evening.”
She was out of the car and halfway across the parking lot before he could formulate a reply.
Lovely.
He sat there, watching her disappear into the night, feeling like a grenade had gone off in his chest. And she said it was “lovely.”
He’d count himself lucky if he never laid eyes on Alyssa Miles again.
T
HE ONLY DOWNSIDE to acting on her impulses was the inevitable crash back into reality. Alyssa closed her eyes and sank into the leather seat of the town car. Pleasure still sizzled through her in tiny bursts, faint echoes of the most mind-blowing orgasms she’d ever had in her entire life.
“You’ll have to remind me exactly where you live, Miss Miles!” Aaron, the driver, called from the front.
She looked at her watch and made a split-second decision. “I’m going to stay at my father’s tonight.” It was already after one
AM
, and breakfast for Oscar Van Weldt started at eight on the dot. Alyssa had been chastised often enough for her tendency for tardiness. She kept a spare change of clothes in the guest room she regularly used, so it would be easy enough to roll out of bed and into the dining room right in the nick of time.
Grace wouldn’t like it, but as far as Alyssa was concerned right now, Grace could suck it.
She shoved thoughts of her stepmother aside, not wanting the stress of her sour relationship with Grace to ruin the lingering glow from the last few hours. She closed her eyes and focused on Derek, on the intense heat in his gaze, on the way his big hands shook with need as they touched her. On the way he moved his body over her, in her, so huge and
strong but gentle despite his size. She licked her lips, savored the taste of that last, hungry kiss, the way his eyes had moved over her and his hands had clenched around the steering wheel like he was struggling not to grab her and pull her back into his Audi.
For now, she wouldn’t worry about what he would think when he realized who she was. She didn’t kid herself that he wouldn’t find out sooner rather than later. A Google search would bring up thousands of hits, hundreds of pictures.
She swallowed past the knot in her throat, wondering what Derek would think when he read the articles and saw the pictures.
No.
She shoved the negativity aside. She wasn’t going to think about that tonight. Tonight she was just another girl who’d had incredible, amazing sex with a gorgeous man, a man who saw nothing but a girl he wanted. Not a celebrity to sell out to the tabloids or use as means to an end.
Pretty sad state of affairs when a man wanting you only for sex is the biggest boost to your self-esteem in recent memory.
Alyssa squeezed out the thought with one of Derek, braced over her, his face a mask of barely checked need as he sank into her with ever-deepening strokes. She ran every second of her evening with him through her head, frame by frame, lingering and savoring every second as the town car pulled off the highway and navigated the narrow streets of her father’s wealthy neighborhood. The few street lamps cast their yellow glow on the rain-damp pavement and illuminated the high fences and gates that concealed some of the priciest homes in the San Francisco Bay area.
As Aaron pulled up to the driveway, fears and doubts came rushing in, chipping away at the lingering pleasure. What if Derek decided to tell the press how Alyssa Miles had practically begged him, a stranger, to take her home with him and have sex? She could only imagine the headlines.
The tabloids would pay him a fortune. His place was nice, but not that nice. Definitely not nice enough to guarantee he’d turn down a six-figure payment to tell his story.
Her headache was back in full, brutal force. She was such an idiot. Her father’s words rang in her head.
Do you ever consider the consequences of your actions before you make a fool of yourself and this family?
Her stomach churned with shame. She’d been trying so hard, doing so well keeping a low profile, and was beginning to have the kind of relationship with her father she’d always wanted. One where he didn’t look at her like he was waiting for her to fuck up sometime in the next five minutes.
Alyssa and Oscar had made great progress, but their relationship was by no means stable. She had no illusions about his love and approval. It was purely conditional, ready to be withdrawn—along with her generous salary—if she made a single misstep.
And now she’d risked it all, and for what? For one hot night of sex with a gorgeous man who would probably tell the tabloids within an hour.
God, why was she so stupid, so impulsive? Just when everything was starting to go well, she had to fuck it up over a hot guy she barely knew. No sex, no matter how amazing, was worth the interrogation she’d face in the morning.
Hands, hot and rough, skimming over her hips. A deep, raspy voice whispering how hot and tight and good her pussy felt around him. Full, firm lips closing over her nipples.
A burst of warmth chipped away at the building dread. Okay, maybe sex with Derek Taggart would be worth it.
The car pulled up in front of the Van Weldt estate, and the driver paused to key in the security code.
Aaron opened the door, and Alyssa thanked him as he assisted her out of the car. She looked up, stomach sinking when she saw the lights were on upstairs.
Oh, crap.
She hadn’t even considered that anyone would still be
awake. She’d hoped to greet them in the morning with a vague story about being tired and not wanting to miss breakfast and tell them she’d arrived shortly after the auction ended. If Grace or her father caught her she would have to explain why she was still out this late and come up with a plausible accounting of her whereabouts.
There you go again, Alyssa, thinking things through.
She should just go home. She turned just in time to see Aaron driving away. She winced as the gate clanged shut and considered calling him back. But that would mean more noise and make it more likely that her father or Grace would hear and come to investigate.
She sucked it up and went inside, praying Grace was far enough gone from the martinis she’d chugged at the fund-raiser and that her father wouldn’t hear her from the master suite in the back of the house.
She paused and took several deep breaths, stalling before keying in the security code.
Alyssa slipped off her heels and tiptoed across the marble tiled foyer. She just needed to make it past the curving staircase to the door that led to the guest wing of the house, and she’d be home free.
Her fingers closed over the door latch, and her heart accelerated. She was going to make it, free and clear, at least for tonight—
A loud, popping sound erupted from upstairs, and she froze. Then another. And another, like two firecrackers going off in rapid succession.
“Dad?” she called, moving automatically to the foot of the staircase. “Grace? Is everything okay?”
Her heart thudded against her ribs, and cold dread settled in her stomach. She raced up the stairs as though propelled by an unseen force, fear tightening her rib cage with every step. Heedless of the danger, she hurried down the hallway, calling her father and stepmother’s names.
She skidded to a halt outside the door to their suite and pounded on the closed door. No answer. She opened the door, her mouth opening wide in a silent scream at the sight that greeted her.
The huge master suite was lit by only a single lamp on top of an end table, but it was enough for Alyssa to make out her father, lying sideways across the king-size bed. A crimson stain bloomed on his chest; another rapidly spread on the cream silk comforter under him.
Hand over her mouth, one arm wrapped around her stomach as if it could contain the horror rising in her gorge, Alyssa took a tentative step into the room, looking frantically around for her stepmother.
She rounded the bed and saw Grace Van Weldt crumpled in a heap on the floor, blood burbling from a wound in her head. Loosely clasped in her limp right hand was a handgun.
The French doors that opened onto a small deck stood open. A cool breeze blew in, stirring the silk hem of Grace’s nightgown and whipping a strand of hair across Alyssa’s face. But the breeze couldn’t mask the smells in the room. The acrid smell of gun powder and something else she didn’t recognize. The sweet metallic smell of blood. And death. A scent so thick she could taste it on her tongue.
The two sips of wine she’d had at Derek’s erupted in her throat, and she barely made it out onto the balcony before heaving up the contents of her stomach. As she straightened she saw a shadow out of the corner of her eye. The killer? Panic made her knees weak.
Don’t be stupid. It’s just a raccoon or a shadow of a tree branch. It’s obvious what happened here tonight.
Alyssa walked back into the bedroom, averting her gaze from the gory scene of her father and stepmother. Her hands shook, and stars hazed her vision.
Hold it together.
She couldn’t fall apart yet. She ran out of the room, unable to
stand it for a second more, and crossed the hall to her stepmother’s private office. She picked up the phone and dialed the police.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
“I think my stepmother just shot my father.”
As the words fell from her mouth, Alyssa felt like she’d taken leave of her body, like she was listening to herself from several feet above as she gave the dispatcher the address and additional details about the scene.
Still, she managed to hang up the phone and dial Kimberly. Kimberly would know what to do, how to handle the situation.
It was only when Kimberly answered that it hit Alyssa. She was about to tell Kimberly that her parents were dead, and that Kimberly’s own mother was the cause.
“Kimberly,” was all Alyssa could force out before she started to sob. It took her several tries before she could finally choke it out.
“Oh, my God.” Kimberly’s voice was small, quiet, quivering with barely contained emotions. After several seconds of silence, she said, “Were they fighting? Did you hear anything?”
“No.” Alyssa sniffled, trying to channel some of her sister’s composure, even in these horrific circumstances. “I just got here. I was going to my room, and I heard the shots—”
“Why are you even there? What are you doing there so late?” Kimberly’s question snapped across the phone line. “You left hours ago.”
“I…met someone,” Alyssa said, her encounter with Derek feeling sleazy and tawdry as she admitted what she’d done. “I’m supposed to meet Daddy for breakfast, and it was so late I decided to stay here.”
“Oh, Alyssa.” Kimberly sighed in the tone of disappointment universally dreaded by all children. “Listen, when the police get there, don’t tell them where you were. Tell them
you were with me before you went to Mother and Daddy’s. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Okay, but why?”
“Really, Alyssa. It will be bad enough to have Mother and Daddy’s private lives torn apart in the press. Do you really want them talking about you and your one-night stand on top of it?”
Alyssa couldn’t believe her sister could care about what the press would think when her father had been murdered and her mother lay dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Then she felt horrible as Kimberly’s soft sobs echoed across the phone lines.
“I know it shouldn’t matter,” Kimberly said. “But Daddy loved you, and I know he wouldn’t want to see you crucified all over again for something so foolish. So do it for him as well as yourself.”
Alyssa nodded, unable to speak as tears stung her eyes and sobs clawed at her throat. Sirens approached, rising to a crescendo as several police cars pulled up to the house. The intercom beeped insistently. “The police are here. I have to go,” Alyssa said and hung up the phone.
She answered the intercom and let the police in through the security gate, and then she opened the front door to let them in. Alyssa spent the next several hours answering their questions, going over again when she had arrived, what she heard, if she could remember the exact time she heard the gunshots.
Kimberly arrived soon after Alyssa had called. Her blond hair was pulled back into a tight knot, and she was dressed in jeans and a turtleneck sweater. The knife-sharp creases in her pants and five-hundred-dollar designer flats kept her from looking anything but coolly elegant. But dark circles framing her eyes and the redness around her nose and eyes showed faint cracks in her composure.
Richard Blaylock, Van Weldt Jeweler’s vice president of legal affairs, had arrived shortly after Kimberly. In his early forties with a lanky build, blue eyes, and blond hair, Blaylock’s clean-cut good looks made him, along with Kimberly, a natural spokesperson for the Van Weldts’ business affairs. More than that, after nearly two decades of working closely with the Van Weldts, he had become a close family friend.
Alyssa didn’t know him very well but had gratefully accepted his comforting hug when he’d arrived. After he released Alyssa, he’d pulled Kimberly close. “This is horrible. How are you two holding up?”
Alyssa shrugged. “I feel so awful. I can’t help thinking, what if I had been here?” Her voice cracked, and she choked back a sob. “Maybe I could have stopped her—”
Kimberly shook her head, grief and resignation closing over her face. “We all knew Mother was getting worse. If you’d been here”—she paused, squeezing her eyes shut against tears as her shoulders heaved once, twice, before she regained control—“if you’d been here, who’s to say you wouldn’t have been killed, too? We all know Mother didn’t want you here.”
Guilt coiled like a snake around the pit of Alyssa’s stomach. She’d wanted her father to accept her into his life, into his family, more than anything. But not at this price.
“Stop it,” Kimberly said, taking her by the shoulders and giving her a light shake. “This is not your fault. If anything, it’s mine.” She held up a hand when Alyssa opened her mouth to protest. “I knew how unstable Mother was, how out of control her drinking had become. I knew I needed to speak to Daddy about getting her into a treatment program, but I kept putting it off. I didn’t want to have that discussion with him, didn’t want to have to deal with the public fallout of Mother being carted off to rehab.”
She sank down on the sofa and buried her face in her hands.
“I was afraid of how the family’s reputation would suffer, especially after you moved up here and we launched your campaign.”